Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Fond Recall

I guess I ought to acknowledge that it's strange,
All the memories of you that are stockpiled inside me,
Along with those of all the rest--my world.
It's a wonder that I can still remember or recall
Those distant moments, not so important even then,
Except to me. Now all are
Worn down, grown thin, elapsed,
Semi-forgotten yet there nonetheless.

Why do I even care?
Why not let them go,
Diminish, retaining nothing,
Grow dim like something burnt up so long ago
It sheds no further light?

No comments:

Post a Comment

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)